


Get Better Soon

by justagayarmin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: FWP, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Jean taking care of Marco, M/M, NyQuil, Oneshot, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, ugh that stuff is DISGUSTING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justagayarmin/pseuds/justagayarmin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bodt was down with a terrible fever, and it was all Jean’s fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Better Soon

To say Marco felt like shit would be a massive understatement. His nose was constantly running, he couldn’t keep himself from sneezing, and it felt like there was sand lodged in his throat. It hurt to breathe in; when he did a stinging pain came to the soft palate of his mouth. If he tried to take too deep or too fast a breath, he'd double over coughing and trying to catch his breath, and his chest ached from it happening so frequently. The coughing lead to headaches, and just general body aches from the surface of his skin to the inside of his ears. Everything was too warm, and he couldn’t escape the choking heat that was himself.

Marco Bodt was down with a terrible fever, and it was _all Jean’s fault._

He and Jean had been living together in their apartment since they were 19. They had talked about it all throughout high school, so when their dream had a chance to become reality, it was an easy decision. The two of them were best friends that did _everything_ together, from group projects to going to the movies to staring at the stars in their parent’s backyard. Jean and Marco were practically joined together at the hips, and their friends constantly joked about when they would spare them the suspense and hook up already.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t thought about it. Jean had brought up the topic once on a restless 4 AM morning, both of them deciding a kiss would be the best way to decide what they felt. They agreed that while it wasn’t awful, it wasn’t something they could see each other doing a lot. But there were some things that they _did_ like to do, like cuddling on particularly shitty days, holding hands, or giving a forehead kiss if needed. To some people it would look like they were already dating in a romantic way, but to them it was different. It was a platonic bond that made them feel happier than ever, and neither Jean nor Marco needed romance in their relationship. Just closeness and contact were all they craved, and they were more than content with what they had.

His best friend was sick last week with a nasty fever, and Marco avoided him like the plague to keep from getting it. Unfortunately that didn’t seem to work, because here he was laying in bed unable to will himself to get up from his literal death _bed_.

Marco slowly searched the sheets, wincing every time the soft fabric brushed against his skin, until he found his cellphone. Hissing from the bright light and coughing off to the side, he opened his messaging app.

 

          **To: Jean-bro**

            _You. Are the ABSOLUTE worst. Once I can actually move without coughing up a lung I am going to kick your ass._

        **To: Jean-bro**

                _And pick up some more medicine on your way back. You probably chugged the whole thing when you were sick._

 

Not even waiting for a response, he closed the window and went to make a very nerve wracking call to his boss. Had to explain why he wasn’t going to be at work for a few days, after all. The sound of it connecting made his weak heart pound in his ears.

“Yes?” a familiar voice responded. He swallowed back the sand in his throat and took a deep breath.

“Hello, Erwin? This is Ma—” he began, but cut himself off with a violent coughing fit that wracked his entire body. His face flushed further from a lack of air, and this lasted for a few minutes. Just before he could wonder if he was actually going to pass out, his body gave him a small break and allowed him to catch his breath without coughing in between.

“Good God, is this Marco? Is everything alright?” he asked, voice laced with concern.

He groaned at the aching pain in his chest. “Y-Yes, sir. I mean no, sir. Well, yes this is Marco, but no, I’m not alri—” he interrupted himself again to sneeze. “—alright. I’m...pretty sure I caught what Jean had last week.”

An intrigued hum came from the line. “Yikes. Sounds pretty bad, Bodt. I take it this call is to ask if you can have a few days off?”

Marco sighed once, a wet rattle escaping his chest. “Yes. I’m sorry, Erwin. I’ll be sure to make it up—”

“Say no more. I’ll arrange to have someone take over your shift. In the meantime, you focus on getting better and getting rest.”

He gave a weak smile at the sympathy, and unfortunately gave another loud sneeze. Wiping his nose on his sleeve, his voice sounded even more congested. “Thank you, sir. I’ll come back to work when I can.”

“Until then.”

With a tap of his screen, he ended the call and slid his phone back behind him. Since getting up was out of the question, all that the poor, sick man could do was try to sleep until his terrible best friend came home. _If_ he could manage to sleep, that is.

.

..

...

....

.....

What restless sleep he managed to get was interrupted by a gentle shake to his shoulder. He tried to open his eyes only to find them crusted shut with sickness. Rubbing them carefully, he cleared away the gunk and looked at who woke him up.

He glared at the traitor as hard as he could in his current state.

“Whoa whoa, easy there tiger. Why’re you so mad?” Jean questioned while raising his hands to defend himself.

Marco coughed loudly and winced in pain. “Because you—” another sneeze. “—you got me sick!”

Jean laughed from where he was, and shrugged in a carefree way that only served to add fuel to the flame. “Relax! It’s not that bad. Probably. I mean I felt like shit when _I_ got it, but you’ll be fine.”

Marco raised one eyebrow and sniffled loudly. “Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Because I’m going to make sure you will be! I bought some stuff at the store, including your medicine by the way. So there’s nothing to worry about as long as you have me taking care of you!” he declared confidently, and it brought a nicer kind of warmth to Marco’s weakened heart.

He wasn’t sure exactly what the blond had in store for him, so he watched Jean leave their room and softly close the door. His head was grateful for that.

Not a minute had passed before a few questionable clanks followed by a few choice curses came from their small kitchen. Marco’s first instinct was to get up and see what was wrong, but his body was not going to let him have his way. He lay there helpless, bedridden, and with only his mind’s limitless possibilities about what Jean could be trying to do.

Ten minutes of silence had gone by, and Marco was about to summon the strength to shout to Jean when he heard a gentle knocking at their bedroom door. Jean let himself in, a bowl of something steaming held in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He placed the latter on the nightstand next to a box of nearly empty tissues.

“Here. Can you sit up?” he asked, and Marco slowly but surely did what he asked. The room spun for a bit since this was the first time he sat up all day, but Jean’s reassuring arm held him in place.

Taking the bowl into his shaky hands, he got a good look at what was inside and was pleasantly surprised. It was hot soup, and the smell sent an excited growl to his stomach. Fortunately, this fever hadn’t gotten rid of his appetite.

“Chicken noodle soup?” he smiled, and appreciated the smell of the delicious meal in front of him.

Jean smiled back. “Of course! Chicken noodle soup is a classic for when you’re sick.” Marco reached for the spoon when he noticed floating chunks of something strange in it. He tilted his head, and looked to his best friend in questioning silence. “It’s bread.”

This confused the sick man even more. “Bread? Why?”

“Well, when my grandma would make me chicken noodle soup, she would always tear up pieces of bread and put it in. Dunno why, but it tastes really good so I never questioned it.”

He noticed the doubtful look on his face, and sighed. “Just eat it, Marco. You’ll feel better with something warm in you.”

Marco gave in and reached for the spoon again, picking up a chunk of broth soaked bread with it. He blew on it softly, took the first careful bite, and was shocked at the flavor. It spread all throughout his mouth and comforted him in a way that reminded him of when he was a kid. It danced down his throat and soothed it from it’s sandy desert state, leaving it feeling clean and safe like a wave washing away anything it could get to. He felt it all the way down to the pit of his stomach, and relished in the feeling. It had been a long time since he’d had chicken noodle soup, and the warm, comforting taste made him question why.

“How did you make this in 10 minutes?” he wondered aloud. This soup tasted fantastic, like something that would take days to prepare. So how had he managed?

“I just uh, opened a can of Campbell's? And I put it in a pot until it got hot. Nothing fancy.”

Marco looked down at the bowl of soup in disbelief. How could this taste so good to him then? Was it because he hadn’t had it in such a long time? Or maybe it was just the feeling of having someone make something especially for you, with your best interests in their heart. He smiled at the chicken noodle soup and took another bite, enjoying every last bit of it. Whatever the reason, it was making him feel better.

Until Jean interrupted his peaceful daydreaming to smack him in the face with reality. “You also need to take your medicine.”

He cringed at the thought of replacing this heavenly taste with the bitter assaulting flavor that was NyQuil. He _did_ ask him to buy some, but he couldn’t stand it. The deadly bottle stared back at him menacingly.

“Do I—” he sneezed several more times and sniffled. “—have to?”

Jean laughed lightly at his obvious sickness. “Of course you do, unless you actually _enjoy_ drowning in your own snot.”

Marco pouted in his bed, and looked away from the medicine in an attempt to erase it from existence. It didn’t work.

“C’mon. Take it, Marco.” he commanded while pouring it into the given cup. Pushing it to his sick friend, he gave him a pleading look. “Please?”

He couldn’t stay adamant for long, because he really did feel like shit. So he reluctantly took the cup full of poison, chugged it down, and chased it with water before he could gag too strongly. Still, the taste lingered, and his facial expression made that fact known.

Jean barked out a laugh before hugging him and kissing Marco’s forehead. “Way to go, you defeated the big bad NyQuil monster.” he teased, taking advantage of the fact that Marco was too weak to do anything about it.

Instead, he could only complain. “Come on, Jean. You _know_ how nasty this stuff is. And why are you touching me, you’ll just get sick again.”

“I’ll be _fine_. I already got sick before, so I’m practically invincible!” he reassured, and Marco coughed into Jean’s chest. He didn’t move from his spot, which he found kind of gross.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” he shook his head, but he didn’t complain any further. Though the fever had made him hot, he always welcomed the warm, comforting, and safe feeling Jean’s embrace gave him. He wished he could fall asleep with Jean like this, and normally he would. But the blond was set on making sure Marco got better.

“I’ll leave you in here to sleep, so just text me if you need anything alright? I’ll go and watch Netflix on my laptop in the other room or something.”

“What? I want to watch Netflix too, Jean. Just watch it in here.” he complained.

Jean shook his head, moving towards the door. “Hell no. I’ll stay in here if you want, but I’m not letting you watch. You’ll just stay up and feel like shit even longer.”

Reaching over to tug at Jean’s t-shirt, he looked up at him and begged in a last ditch effort. “Please? I haven’t had anything to do all day but be—” several coughs escaped from him. “—be sick...The medicine will knock me out soon enough, so...until then?”  he compromised.

He looked down at his pitifully sick friend, and finally gave in to his wishes. “Alright, alright. But if I see that you’re still up in an hour I’m taking my laptop and leaving. Got it?” he threatened, and moved over to sit on his side of the bed.

“Got it.” and Marco slowly scooted next to Jean to lay his head in his lap, looking up at the screen in front of the both of them.

He was right about the medicine though; soon enough his eyelids felt like lead, and it became more trouble to keep them open than closed. Marco gave in to the medicines' healing effects, and before he drifted off he felt Jean’s warm hands playing with his hair. It was something Jean knew he loved, and was guaranteed to knock him right out. He didn’t fight it any longer, and let his entire body succumb to a dreamless slumber.  

 

When he woke up the next morning, he could have sworn he heard his best friend sneeze next to him.

 

Jean strongly denied it ever happening.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is a cute little one shot fic i wrote because i've been really sick these past few days with a fever my friend gave me ((what a dick am i right)) ((nah she felt pretty bad about it)) 
> 
> I'm also really sorry for not updating dormmates! These past few weeks have been finals week, and like i just mentioned i've been sick. I'm so sorry! But school is out, finals are over, and i'm feeling much healthier, so i'll hopefully be able to upload a new chapter soon!


End file.
